Reconciliation
by Sounddrive
Summary: AU TFP: The war is over. Megatron & Airachnid have been imprisoned. The Autobots, Knockout & Breakdown come across a gestation pod out in the desert. But, why is it so important to Breakdown that the pod is kept safe? Some OC's, but not OC-centric. ON HOLD INDEFINITELY. REVISION IN PROGRESS.
1. The Pod

It had been a routine recon, or so everyone thought. Arcee had come across a long strip of sand and soil that was gouged out by something as about as tall as an average human door, and had stumbled upon a gestation pod.

The pod was silver all around. It has black bands on the ends and had a line from the middle go to a small, turquoise circle on the front. The back was a different story, being covered in Cybertronian letters.

"Arcee, tell me again where you found this?" Ratchet demands when the said femme gingerly places down an egg-shaped pod upon a five meter wide cushion.

Ratchet quickly attaches a pair of energon feeding lines that were connected to a cart-like machine with a tube on two of its sides. One tube for output as the other siphons whatever liquid the patient needed.

Bumblebee promptly hands the veteran medic an energon cube, which the latter promptly sticks one siphoning hose into. Ratchet then fumbles around, looking for special additives especially for protoforms. Once he finds a sealed packet at the top of a cabinet, he rips it open with his denta and then pours the additives in, with Bee quickly stirring the contents.

Ratchet then grasps the other tube tightly, looking for an access port on the outside of the pod. He finds it in the middle of the turquoise circle, and attaches it quickly. He didn't relinquish his hold on the flexible pipe until a loud hiss was emitted from the egg and when energon was slowly being sucked away from the cube.

By now, everyone on Team Prime was present. The Autobots formed a semi-circle around the berth, all in awe.

"I'm telling you Ratchet, that's how I found this little guy-or femme," Arcee mumbles, her gaze shifting from the pod to the medic and back. "In a small crater in the sand; I couldn't leave him or her there."

"But . . . geez, where did the . . . the . . . pod come from?" Bulkhead mumbles awkwardly, scratching his helm. "There haven't been any sparkling's since the war started, or at least as far as the five of us know."

**"Luck? The Allspark? Primus possibly?" **Bumblebee suggests out, somewhat smiling at the pod whilst angling his helm to the side.

"Bumblebee, in case you haven't noticed, _I'm _going to have to be the one that keeps an eye on the youngster while the rest of you are either on recon or in battle!" Ratchet snorts, somewhat glaring at the pod.

**"Better brush up on your maternity skills, **_**Nurse **_**Ratchet," **Bumblebee teases whilst clasping his servos behind his back. Arcee can only shake her helm as the scout's door-wings begin to wiggle in mirth. Luckily, the Urbana 500 narrowly ducks a wrench thrown his way and makes haste to the safety of his quarters.

"Does anyone else wants to make a remark about me?" Ratchet growls, brandishing another Cybertronian-sized wrench. Everyone shakes their helm in disagreement. Arcee and the green Wrecker promptly leave, voicing their plan to try to find the Creators of the gestation pod. Once the sound of their transformation and engines died away, it left the eldest pair of the team behind.

It was silent for awhile; Optimus was looking at the pod as Ratchet looks to the ground and covers his optics with his right servo.

"Optimus . . . what do you make of this?" Ratchet finally says as he lets his arm hang loosely by his side. His sullen gaze turns to his friend. "From my initial scans of the pod, it's barely surviving now. Even with a small supply of energon we have feeding the little one, without one or both of its creators nearby-"

"The protoform within shall die; I do know of the dire consequences of such Ratchet," Optimus says solemnly. "Have you figured out who the protoform's Sire and Carrier are?"

"Ugh, Optimus . . . as I've said over a million times and I'll state it again; human technology can't compare with our own. I haven't used a Gestation Pod Scanner since before the War!" Ratchet exclaims, throwing up his arms to emphasize his point. The medic's expression turns rueful as he adds, "I'm sorry Optimus . . . I guess I'm still trying to wrap my CPU on how this pod managed to survive for so long."

"Resilience is common among the young ones, which is why it's still hard for others to believe such fragile beings make it to their adult-frames," Optimus states. "I understand your frustration old friend; hopefully Arcee and Bulkhead will manage to find its Creators," he adds with a small nod, taking one last glance at the pod before exiting the med-bay.

Sighing, Ratchet turns around to look at the pod. To his relief, the bright silver metal on the pod begins to pulsate, matching the quick spark-beat of a healthy sparkling.

"Well little one, looks like it's going to be you, me, and an annoying youngling of a scout we have," the medic says to the egg, not able to hide a small smile. "Now, be a good little one while I go and try to find the scanner we need so that I can take a look at you."

The medic then goes outside the med-bay, only to run into Bumblebee, who was grasping something in his left servo.

"What do you have there?" Ratchet asks as he raises his optic ridge. Bumblebee meekly holds up a scanner, the very one the medic needed.

In response to Ratchet's maw dropping, Bumblebee whispers, **"I . . . kept it with me after I left the Youngling Centers to sign up with the Autobots. I dunno; I've been a bit too sentimental I guess . . . my care taker gave it to me; the same one she used to scan me when I was in a pod."**

"Well, it'll help me a deal lot more Bee," Ratchet says, his smile showing a bit. He takes the scanner, and with a rare parental tone he says, "Want to see the protoform?"

Bumblebee doesn't hesitate to scuttle past the medic, making the said wrench-wielding mech shout, "STANDARD BRAKE PROCEDURE IS ESSENTIAL! Don't run into the little one for Primus's sake!" Ratchet shakes his helm as Bumblebee begins to chirp and beep a small tune.

**"Hurry up you old model!"**Bumblebee quips once Ratchet is within reaching distance.

The youngling receives the end of a wrench to his helm, but the scout doesn't care.

* * *

**A/N: Apparently, my muse is only cooperating with me on TFP related fics . . . sorry for my readers who want to see Taking Chances updated soon; my muse is dead on that account, sorry . . . ^^;**


	2. Suspicion

_Later . . ._

"Breakdown? Knock Out to Breakdown, WAKE UP!" shouts the red mech, snapping the larger mech out of his reverie. Breakdown remembers where he is, and tries to smother his frown as he looks over to the gestation pod that was sitting in the berth. The yellow scout was hovering over it as if it was going to hatch sometime soon, even though the old medic had said that it wouldn't be coming online for several more Earth months.

"Oh, uh, sorry Knock Out; was thinking," Breakdown mumbles. "So, what's the verdict on Little Egg?"

"Healthy, still in early development-as I said earlier-and has, possibly, a Carrier or Sparker with black and white plating," Ratchet mumbles, holding a data-pad as he taps the screen for the results. Breakdown shakes his helm as he looks up at the walls. The interior rock had a number of grooves and breaks between the walls would merit hours of imagining images upon the stone if one had the time.

Then, the door of the med-bay whooshes open, and in come the humans that the Autobots had befriended.

"So, that's an egg?" Miko asks excitedly, and Breakdown inwardly cringes. That particular human always, and he knew, _**always **_asks/says the strangest things.

"Miko . . ." Jack mutters in disdain, shooting the Japanese teen a look.

"Hey Bee," Raf says, completely ignoring the elder teens banter. The blonde rushes over to Bumblebee's servo and the scout carefully brings up the human to be next to the slightly pulsating egg. "Wow, it's so small . . ."

**"None of us got to be this big for a long while,"**the yellow mech explains as Raf walks closer to the gestation pod. **"It takes several millennia for one this small to get to their adult frames."**

"Alright, enough with the biology speech," Breakdown interrupts, waving the scout off. "Don't you have patrol?" Bumblebee whips his helm around to take a look at a hexagonal clock just above the door, and beeps in alarm, his door-wings angling up.

**"Scrap, gotta go Raf, see ya later!" **the scout whistles and is out the door in a blink of an eye, with Knock Out contemptuously following him. After all, it was his turn to be on patrol with the youngest among the group.

"Something on your mind?" asks a voice, and Breakdown glances down to see the eldest of the trio looking up at him.

"What makes you say that?" the ex-Wrecker huffs with a frown.

"I dunno; you have the same look in your eye when my mom is thinking about someone . . ." Jack lets his voice trail off as the frown deepens.

"Buzz off kid; don't you have any homework to do?" the blue and silver mech growls. Taking the hint, Jack grabs Miko and hustles her outside as the old medic comes over and grabs Raf. The old model then gently lets Raf down and sends him off on his merry way.

Breakdown snorts as Ratchet brandishes his wrench; after awhile of knowing the mech, the effect of seeing the dreaded wrench wore off.

"Breakdown, what's going on?" Ratchet asks, repeating the question the fleshy had inquired about earlier.

"Aren't you a doctor?" Breakdown smirks, but earns a bash to the helm with the end of the wrench.

"I may be old, but I can still see," the snarky mech retorts.

"Why do you care, I'm just a mech that's an ex-'Con and Wrecker, nothing bugs me easily," Breakdown explains and then gets up to leave. He takes one last look at the pod and says, "Hope the Hatchet can figure out who you are."

As the blue and silver mech leaves, Ratchet starts to become suspicious. He could see a small gleam of hope in that yellow optic. The kind of hope, Ratchet couldn't identify for sure, but he was sure for one thing.

Breakdown knew more about the pod than he was letting on.

* * *

**A/N: A wee bit short . . . but the next chapter shall be coming soon!**


	3. Rescue

**A/N: To clarify . . .**

-"Blank"- is Cybertronian speak

**"Blank"**is when Bee talks

"Blank" is normal

"-Blank-" equals to comm-link speak

* * *

_A week later . . ._

"Bulkhead, there is something seriously wrong with Breakdown," Miko whispers to her guardian. Both were stuck with mopping duty-it was their turn anyway-and were just outside the door of the med-bay.

"What's got you spooked Miko?" Bulkhead murmurs in disdain as he accidentally knocks over the pail full of dirty mop water. "You usually don't give scrap about him, unless he's picking a fight with me."

"He talks to the pod," Miko says frankly, rolling her eyes. Glad that her guardian was now paying attention to her, she adds, "I went in there with Ratchet to get the mops, and I swear, he was just muttering something to the egg!"

"Did you hear anything he said?" Bulkhead asks, starting to get a niggling of suspicion. Breakdown was really starting to act weird lately . . .

"No, I think he was speaking Cybertronian," Miko says with a shrug. "I dunno, but it sounded like a lullaby-"

"Miko, are you serious?"

"Yes Bulkhead! I wouldn't lie to you when it came to your-"

"AUGH!" came the frustrated cry from within the med-bay, and Bulkhead walks up to the door and keys in the code. He steps in to see an enraged medic and a frustrated Breakdown, in stiff stances.

"Honestly Breakdown, keep that thing away from my pedes!" Knock Out huffs as he inspects a scratch on his said landing pads.

"You ran into me Doc, not exactly helpin'!" Breakdown snaps and then stoops to the floor to grab a data-pad.

"Everything okay in here?" Bulkhead asks, earning a glare from the ex-Wrecker.

"Fine, just peachy," Breakdown snorts and then stomps out of the med-bay. He spares a look back to the egg before jogging away from the entrance.

"Sentimental fool," Knock Out sighs as he vigorously shakes his helm. "Can't seem to purge that one-"

"What are you talking about Knock?" Bulkhead asks, cocking his helm to the side. "What's going on with Breakdown?"

"Sorry," Knock Out declares in a sing-song voice while waggling a digit. "Doctor-patient confidentiality." Bulkhead glares at the medic, but the vain mech takes no heed as the green Wrecker walks outside with Miko in tow.

"If I know for one thing about Breakdown," Bulkhead mutters. "It's that he rarely gets sentimental."

"Really?" Miko murmurs, and Bulkhead mutters in Cybertronian before he adds, "Breakdown had a rough time when he was growing up; got that from his application to the Wreckers. Otherwise . . ." he looks down to the Japanese teen and smiles.

"Distraction is my specialty!" Miko says with a miniature salute. "So, what's the plan?"

* * *

_In the communications hub . . ._

Breakdown had no idea why he was back there again.

The walls were painted in spatters of colors thanks to Miko's take on how the room should look. It was only a few meters taller than the Prime himself, and the one-optic mech was glad no one was around, especially Knock Out. There were several benches in the room, mainly of Cybertronian-sized ones, but two wooden seats for the humans were installed.

Remembering the S.O.S. the console had received, literally minutes before Arcee came revving back with the pod strapped to her alt-mode. He hadn't had time to talk to Prime about it since he had been contending with Knock Out's tendency to go underground racing, and taking Bee along for the adrenaline.

_Different views, same hobby,_ Breakdown thinks somewhat amusedly, looking up at the blank green screen. He taps a circle button on the keyboard and then finds the file he saved before. The one voice he hadn't heard since he left Cybertron.

"This was the transmission you wanted me to hear?" asks a deep voice, and Breakdown jumps. He turns around to see Optimus, his face placid.

"Uh . . . yeah, and the coordinates are . . . here," Breakdown adds, quickly tapping the keys to key in the coordinates. "Hmm, somewhere . . . um." The mech tries to hide his embarrassment as he tries to figure out where the coordinates are. He wasn't any good in geography . . .

"Odd," Optimus murmurs as he gets next to Breakdown. He quickly types in the coordinates again, and is astonished to see the results. "They're in Colorado . . ."

"Could it have something to do with the gestation pod?" Breakdown offers, and Optimus arches an optic ridge in response. Breakdown then bites his lower lip and then looks away.

Optimus doesn't say anything in response, but then contacts all available Autobots to go and check out the beacon. The Prime knew that Breakdown was hiding something, and it was evident on how close the ex-Con kept himself close to the gestation pod. He also knew that Breakdown was once a Wrecker, thanks to Bulkhead's rants when the mech in front of him first signed up to be integrated to the Autobot's side.

"Breakdown, are you withholding information that any one of us should know about?" the elder mech asks, placing a friendly servo upon Breakdown's shoulder.

The mech shakes off the servo and hoarsely answers, "And she was thrown into prison when she was a youngling . . . because of me." Turning to Optimus, his gaze was concentrated. "The details of _why_ that happened Prime, I don't want to discuss." The mech then walks out of the room, his expression strained. Before Optimus could ask about who 'she' was, there was a ping on his comm.

"-Arcee to Optimus-," says the femme. "-We need a ground bridge, coordinates coming up in a nano.-"

"Understood," Optimus replies.

* * *

_In Colorado . . ._

"How the spark did they get up there?" Bulkhead mumbles as he's pulled up from his risky climb.

Arcee, Bulkhead and Bumblebee were across from where the beacon had originated. Atop of the gigantic mesa in front of them, there was a busted up Cybertronian scout ship. There were also three Cybertronians around it; one was crazily flailing his arms about as one was kneeling next to a somewhat smaller femme.

"What can you see?" Arcee asks Bumblebee as he holds up his special binoculars.

"**Two femmes, one youngling mech,"** Bumblebee confirms, lowering his binoculars. **"The one that's jumping around is holding up flags."**

"Can ya interpret?" Bulkhead inquires. "I'm a bit rusty on how to read them."

"An S.O.S. for one," Arcee says as she takes the binoculars.

The youngling Bumblebee had mentioned was taking a look over his shoulder as he once again frantically starts to wave the flags around. He was definitely tall for one, a bit taller than Ratchet at most. His plating was mainly of silver, bit has blue energon lines running along his arms and shoulders. His eyes were oddly familiar, but they were blue.

"He's signaling for medical help," Arcee says, now realizing what was at stake. "The femme on the floor is his grandmother; the femme attending to her is his sister."

"Ratch, where's the ground-bridge?" Bulkhead exclaims as he taps his comm-link.

"-ETA, five cycles . . .-" Ratchet replies calmly, the sound of medical supplies shifting around were heard.

"Better hurry, the elder femme is bleeding out and has a virus, or at least according to our flag boy," Arcee adds, frowning as she looks at the mech again through Bee's binoculars again. The mechs physical look . . . it wasn't normal for a youngling to be so tall.

Not ever.

* * *

_On the mesa . . ._

Ratchet just steps onto the rock when he is nearly tackled by a femme.

-"Please, you gotta help her,"- the femme begs in Cybertronian. -"Aside from my brother, she's all I have left!"- Ratchet has to shake her off and then jogs over to the patient. He winces as he sees that there was a massive gash across the femme's chest-plate. There were notable signs of infection as well as some rust starting to show up on the cut.

-"How did this happen?"- Ratchet asks as he starts to grab some disinfectants.

-"When the ship crashed,"- the femme hyperventilates -"A chunk of the left wing slashed against her when it broke off; we're even lucky to be online right now-"-

-"Do you have some experience in the medical field?"- Ratchet interjects, looking at her with all seriousness.

-"Only a little-"-

-"Better than none; you're grandmother doesn't have much time. I need an energon scalpel . . ."- And the two began to cut away the infected pieces of metal as the brother of the femme stands off to the side, looking a bit nauseated.

"Ugh . . ." gurgles the elder femme, and Ratchet has to shoot a bit of painkillers via a syringe to ease with the pain she was going to be contending with soon.

-"Hang in there; we're almost done,"- the femme whispers, tenderly stroking the other's face-plate.

-"Smokey . . ."- coughs the femme, and Ratchet is stunned once she turns her helm to look at the medic.

"Rosaline," Ratchet gasps, immediately calling Knock Out to send a gurney and a ground bridge.

-"I'll patch you up at base friend; you'll be safe,"- Ratchet whispers to the wounded femme. Then the youngling mech steps over as a med-bay grade stretcher is sent though the ground bridge.

Holding his grandmother bridal style, the younger mech gently places her onto the stretcher, and the trio race to get through the whirlpool of green and blue.


	4. Familiar Faces

_In the missile silo . . ._

Around seven A.M. the next day, Rosaline was awake.

Rosaline was mainly white on her derma-plating, with green tracing her figure as well as thinner, red lines on the inner bits. She wasn't that much taller than Bumblebee. Her face was a bit round and her eyes were angled. Her bright blue optics continues to rove around the med-bay and managed to spot Lance and Smokey recharging next to one another.

Backs were to the wall, and Smokey was hugging Lance's large silver and black arm. Both were lightly snoring and had noticeable welds were on their frames, making Rosaline grimace.

-"So adorable . . ."- Rosaline whispers she realizes that some of the cargo from the ship was in the med-bay.

Taking another glance at her remaining family, she tip-toes over to one of the crates and yanks the top off with ease. Inside were several large blankets, and the one she was looking for was right on top; black and made of carbon fiber.

-"Here we go,"- the femme chuckles as she drapes the blanket over the slumbering pair, and smiles when Smokey cuddles closer to her brother.

She looks at herself and winces when she sees a large weld over her chest and lower abdomen. Rosaline knew the wing of the aircraft had struck her, but just not i_that_/i bad.

-"Primus, I'm lucky . . ."- the former singer sighs and then stretches a bit.

Seeing a computer nearby, Rosaline smiles as an idea forms. The femme walks over to the workstation and starts to look up information about the planet.

_But first and foremost is a major language here . . ._ she thinks and starts to tap away.

-"And I'll help the youngsters too,"- she adds with confidence.

* * *

_One hour later . . ._

Before the war, Rosaline was one for singing. Around the Youngling Centers and such, she always sang lullabies to ease the little ones so that they could recharge. She would've been a starlet if it weren't for the fact that the war broke out not long after she had caught a virus that crumbled her voice.

About halfway into the War however, Rosaline sprang back into action. She began singing to the troops via a communications line that fed into several bases and outposts all around Cybertron and beyond. No one had ever seen her physically during those few millennia, but her rallying songs encouraged the Autobots to do their best.

Currently, Ratchet was making his rounds around the base, and heard music. He knew it was Earth music, but the tune was rather peaceful, and coming from a certain sick bay. Veering off course for once, Ratchet takes a peek into the family med-bay.

Rosaline was tapping away at the console as the younger pair was going over data-pads that had English phonics and definitions.

"Ugh Gran . . ." Smokey huffs as she nearly slaps the data-pad to her brother's chest-plates. "My helm is aching . . ."

"You'll have to learn as much as you can Smokey; this isn't our planet you know," Rosaline titters, tapping at some more keys and another song begins to play.

_Sunday morning rain is falling . . ._

"Glad to see you starting to adapt, as usual," Ratchet says aloud, making the large youngling jump up in alarm. Smokey then gets into a defensive stance as Rosaline just calmly turns around.

"Doctor," Rosaline answers with a curt nod. Outstretching an arm to her grandkids, she adds, "Meet Smokey and Lance."

"_Oh,"_ Rosaline says in understanding, getting out of her defensive stance. She turns to give Rosaline a smile and the latter's expression is then full of dread. "So _this_ is the medic I hear you rave about every-"

"Smokey, shh!" Rosaline snaps at Smokey as the femme darts out the door with her brother in tow, looking somewhat confused.

"So, Steel Runner had sparklings?" Ratchet asks. Rosaline sighs dreamily with a shake of her helm.

She whispers somberly, "Smokey is his only sparkling . . . poor mech offlined in his ship when it exited Cybertron; Lance was adopted by me and Smokes a _long _time after we got off of Cybertron . . ."

"I'm sorry, I truly am . . ." Ratchet replies, reaching out to place a servo on Rosaline's upper arm.

"At least he's in a better place; probably blabbing to Ringer about you and me . . ." Rosaline chuckles as a faint tint of blush appears on her face-plate.

Ratchet can only snort in reply and remove his servo from its place.

"Remember the crazy adventures you got me, Orion and Ariel to do?" Rosaline asks and Ratchet is startled.

"Do you really want to go down memory lane my friend?" Ratchet exhales. "And those designations aren't theirs anymore Rose, their-"

"Optimus Prime and Elita-1 . . . I know, I know," Rosaline chuckles, waving him off. "Sheesh Doc, at least you fulfilled your duties and then some!" she adds bitterly, obviously going to darker memories of the War.

"Your time at the Youngling Centers were _not_ a waste," Ratchet states seriously. "They loved your songs . . . especially those energon cookies you made."

Before Rosaline can reply, there was a loud rapping at the door. The entrance then slides open, letting a voice say, "Uh, am I interrupting anything?"

The CMO can only groan in annoyance.

"No you aren't," Ratchet answers as the femme makes her way out of the small med-bay.

"Goin' with the kiddies for a small tour," Rosaline calls loudly before skipping off to find said 'kiddies'.

"Phew," Knock Out smirks. He then does a small wink at Ratchet and wolf whistles.

The vain medic then counts his blessings when he ducks to avoid Ratchet swinging a wrench at his helm. Leaping back to his pedes, Knock Out sing-songs, "So~ . . . you and Granny-"

"Are just friends; nothing more," Ratchet says dryly.

"Sure you old model, sure . . ." Knock Out sing-songs and then is forced to get on with the inventory of the room when the CMO is suddenly armed with **two** wrenches.

* * *

_With Bumblebee . . ._

"**And here's the last place, the rec room,"** the yellow scout explains as Lance pokes his helm into the semi-empty space.

It was about the same size as the main room several hundred meters down the hall, but it was equipped with a fully stocked energon room, a small radio, several Cybertronian sized computers and even a flat screen T.V.

"Whoa . . ." Lance murmurs, in total awe.

"You took the words right outta my mouth lil' bro," Smokey chuckles, glancing about the room.

Bumblebee smiles as the two start to banter in Cybertronian. The two would take some time trying to fully learn English, but it was obvious that Rosaline managed to cram _some_ words into their helms.

He walks over to the energon storage room and finds a cube with his designation on it, literally. Ratchet was rather persnickety about how much and when they could consume their energon.

Many of the Vehicons/Eradicons were out and about the base, fixing some of the old structures of the base and building the new living space for the trio of newcomers.

The scout then beings to wonder what the kids would think of the newcomers. Raf would be respectful as always, Jack would be a bit surprised but nevertheless welcoming, and Miko was just going to be Miko . . .

"I'm starting to like this planet," Smokey murmurs. "Sounds quite nice, but we have to get the okay from Prime first."

"**Or until you two get alt. modes," **Bumblebee chirps.** "Took awhile for everyone to get one."**

"Darn . . ." Lance chuckles and receives a smack on the arm from Smokey.

"Patient mech, you can't transform yet . . ." Smokey whispers to him, and Lance immediately deflates somewhat.

"I know, but-"

"Gran will tell Ratch; just give it some time kiddo," Smokey adds sympathetically, laying a servo on his left arm.

That intrigues Bumblebee quite a bit. Cybertronians that were usually about Bumblebee's age could gain the ability to transform into an alt; in rare cases some took longer . . . or never did.

Was Lance one of those rare few?

"That puts rust in the wound," Lance chuckles wryly. "Oi . . ."

"Hey Bee!" shouts Breakdown from the hall. "Optimus wants to see you!" Bumblebee twists around to take a look at Breakdown, surrounded by three Eradicons.

"**Thanks for the reminder,"** Bumblebee says. Energon scouting mission to California . . . he had been looking forward to it for awhile!

"Hurry it up before-" Breakdown immediately stops when he spots the siblings that were mingling in the corner. His optic was glued on Smokey's shocked expression.

"Smokes-" Breakdown stammers. He immediately was reversing his steps into the hall.

"Breakdown?" Smokey asks softly, staring at the larger mech in front of her.

"I-I'm sorry," the mech stammers, and literally runs out of the room. He knocks over some Eradicons on his way and doesn't seem to notice.

"BREAKDOWN!" Smokey yells, going after him. She halts at the door grabs a side of the door frame. "Wait!" she exclaims and veers left.

"**What was that about?"** Bumblebee asks, bewildered.

"Long story, short explanation . . ." Lance sighs, rubbing his forehead.

"They knew each other when they were younglings."


	5. Mothers

**A/N: Holy mackerel, I'm SO sorry for the long wait! Oi, I can't count the number of reasons why school and life . . . *grumble-grumble***

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of Transformers: Prime. All I own are the plot and my OC's Rosaline, Smokey & Lance.**

* * *

_Iacon, eons ago . . ._

During that time Ratchet wasn't a politician or even Optimus's CMO; he was a medical professor at the nearby university from where the ex-singer once lived. Rosaline had two very different paint jobs during her younger years. One was the color scheme and the same blue optics as when she had gotten to earth. The other was when her chassis was swathe in streaks of purple, silver and black; her eyes were a piercing, molten gold.

In fact her real designation was a topic that even to this day; she didn't want to talk about.

It started out as a normal cycle; Rosaline had gotten out of her berth to take a glance at her chassis in a mirror in front of her bed. The singer was checking the purple streaks in case if any were fading. She was by no means vain, but she just wanted to look spic-and-span, especially since she was going to a certain professor. She glances at the chronometer next to her berth. It was bit later than expected, but she had a late-cycle gig at the _Cerulean Lounge_; where she made her first debut several stellar cycles ago.

The femme smiles as she finally decides on what to do once she visits Ratchet. The mech was nice, but he needed a cycle off every once in awhile.

Rosaline makes her way to the silver door in front of her. The vocalist then palms the keypad as she makes her way to her den. Upon entrance, the walls were a deep shade of crimson with the floor being a dark gray. The left wall was occupied by a Cybertronian version of a futon. Atop of it were several closed canisters of paint-after all, she needed to change her look for her gigs every now and then-and a thermal blanket incase she decided to recharge there instead of her quarters.

There's a large metal desk tucked away in the upper right corner of the room with a white recliner behind it. It was covered in a number of deactivated holograms, knick-knacks and data-pads with a number of styluses on them. To the left of the desk were two cabinets full of data-pads. They were filled with a number of different data-files; the genres range from mysteries to romances that would make anyone run for a fan or grab a cube full of coolant.

"Hmm, ought to start the next chapter later," Rosaline murmurs to herself as she eyes the data-pad that was haphazardly placed upon the edge of the futon. It was a crime narrative and she was pretty close to reading about the part where the murderer is revealed. "I'm wondering who the murderer is actually-"

Before the femme could say another word however, she experiences a wave of pain searing, white hot torture that wrecks havoc upon her chest-plates. Rosaline collapses on her front, curling in on herself as she cries out in agony. Her pulse skyrockets as another ripple of distressing pain is unleashed, causing her back to bow backwards as another scream is emitted.

She immediately thinks of one mech that can assist her, and makes the comm-link.

"-What is it Rosaline?-" Ratchet asks, confused.

"R-Ratchet!" Rosaline wails in terror as she finally notices energon seeping out of her chest-plates. "I-I th-think I need a medic . . . I'm leaking out!" There was a noticeable _thump_ of something falling to the ground as Ratchet's tone is now of a professional doctor.

"-Where?-"

"Ugh . . . chest-plating . . ." Rosaline whimpers as another upsurge of pain blossoms, and it seems to nick at every pain receptor throughout her chassis. "Help . . ." she adds, her tanks starting to churn. She couldn't go to the well! Heck, she had a scan only half a cycle ago; nothing showed up!

Before she knew it, Ratchet had managed to enter the den and help Rosaline onto a gurney with several other med-bots. Ratchet quickly grabs a scanner that was attached to his hip plating and waves the device over the femme's chest-plates. No more than three clicks or so did it beep, and Ratchet's blue optics widen in shock.

"Good Primus femme, you're sparked!" he exclaims, and that's enough to make Rosaline faint.

* * *

_Present day . . ._

It was rather quite quiet in the communications room after Rosaline is obviously too coy to continue her tale. To her left was an amused Ratchet and Optimus. To her right were Lance and Smokey, bored since they knew how the story went, and beside them was the vain ex-Con medic and Breakdown, slack jawed.

"So, how did you even become sparked, even if you didn't even-" Breakdown asks, suddenly turning a bright red when Smokey immediately elbows him hard on the chest plates.

"Apparently," Rosaline sighs, straightening up in the seat she was sitting on. She rubs her forehead as she adds, "I have a coding within me that can permit me to . . . actually get sparked on my own."

"By Primus," Lance murmurs and face-palms, not wanting to hear the full-blown 'explanation'. In return, he receives a smack on the back by his sister, clicking and chirping in a chiding tone of the Cybertronian tongue.

"Don't be rude," Smokey snorts, shaking her helm as she turns her attention to Ratchet. "So Doc, can we see the pod in the other med-bay?" The CMO's optics widens in response, and manages to utter, "Did Breakdown tell you?"

"An F.Y.I.-" Lance states, but then is shot down by Smokey elbowing her adopted younger brother in the chest-plating. Smokey mutters something to him under her breath, but then turns her attention to the CMO.

"Jus' show us the pod, please?" Smokey asks in such a tiny voice, Ratchet compares it to the one time he had seen the femme as a little one.

In response, Knock Out leisurely jerks his head towards the hall that leads to the med-bay. Near immediately, Ratchet can see the concerned look Rosaline was giving her grand-femme as Smokey was nervously shifting her weight about her pedes.

The young femme looked like as if she was going to faint in discomfort.

Ratchet's attention is then drawn to the door of the med-bay when a loud crash is heard from within, followed by a loud shout of **"MAMA!"** in Cybertronian.

Immediately, Ratchet barges into the med-bay. His optics dart to the ground, only to find a small Cybertronian that was the equivalent of a six to seven year old human. She was covered in energon-blue fluid . . .

And next to the femme was the gestation pod, cracked down the middle in half.

"**Mama? Where are we?" **asks the little thing innocently, her gaze towards a bot behind the red-orange and white medic. Ratchet twists around to find that Smokey was trying to hide-failing miserably-behind Breakdown, who was suddenly interested in gazing at the rock wall parallel to him.

Ratchet lets out an annoyed groan as he face-palms in exasperation. Composing himself quickly, the medic places his servos on his hips; gaze stern with a taut mouth.

"Is this something you bothered not to tell us, Breakdown?" Optimus asks calmly in a nonjudgmental tone.

"Uh . . ." Breakdown responds, still looking on the ground. Beside him, Knock Out rolls his optics.

This was going to be a field day . . .

* * *

**A/N: A headache for the CMO soon indeed . . . R&R please . . . I'll give you all energon cookies~.**


	6. Swiftspark's Arrival

"Wait, so you're _not_ her Sire?" Bulkhead asks incredulously, pacing in front of Breakdown. Autobot and ex-Con alike, they were all in a semi-circle around Breakdown in the middle of the communications room. The mech of interest was refusing to look at any of them in the optic.

"Like I told you for the past three minutes Bulk, _no,_" Breakdown hisses between clenched denta. His servos then form into fists, with his right arm twitching; threatening to turn into a hammer and pound some sense into the green mech. "Smokey assigned me to be Sparky's-"

"That's the little one's name?" Ratchet interrupts, his attention drawn towards Rosaline. The femme rolls her optics at her friend as she snorts, "Yes doctor, but the full designation is SwiftSpark; now don't interrupt!" she chides.

"As I was saying," the one-optic mech snaps. "Smokey assigned me to be Sparky's guardian."

"So, who's the Alpha then?" Arcee asks, tilting her helm to the side whilst placing a servo on her hip.

"That I don't know," Breakdown admits with a defeated tone in his voice.

"She has the same mono-reproduction coding anomaly as me," Rosaline interjects, making everyone in the room stare at her. "It seems to skip every other generation in my family line . . ." she adds, sounding annoyed at the fact.

"Hmm," Knock Out murmurs to himself. He didn't know whether or not Breakdown was telling the truth, but there was only one sure-fire way to know for sure.

He'd have to take a CNA from Sparky, with or without Smokey's permission.

* * *

_Meanwhile . . ._

"Hold still," Smokey whispers to Sparky, who was exuberantly enjoying her first bath in what was approximately a century. The femme was in a washbasin that was about two meters in diameter, and was covered from helm to pede in suds, except on her face-plate.

"Aw, but Mama . . ." Sparky retorts, emphasizing her joy by twisting about in her mother's grip.

"SwiftSpark," Smokey deadpans, using the full designation. Immediately her little one stops moving about so much and then has a placid expression. "Atta girl," the Carrier softly smiles. "Now, give me another cycle or so . . ." The larger femme then continues to be scrupulously scrubbing her young one's derma-plating that was coated in the gooey energon, stardust . . . and other unmentionable things.

"Mama, why is Breakdown in trouble?" Sparky asks suddenly. Smokey almost drops the scrubbing tool she has in her servos, but manages to catch it before it clatters into the ground.

Smokey hesitates for several seconds before murmuring, "He's not in trouble sweet-spark; Prime just wants to ask some questions is all."

"Oh . . ." the sud-covered femme whispers in response. She twists around in time to see her Carrier reach for a bucket full of warn water, so she immediately shutters her optics as a wave of lukewarm liquid passes over her. "BBBRRR!" she chirrs happily as she shakes herself like a canine would.

"I swear," Smokey chuckles as she grabs a large towel to dry her femling in. "In a previous life, you were a water-dwelling thing!"

"Whatever," Sparky chuckles as she wriggles out of her Carrier's grasp. She wanders over to a large metal plate, which the femling used as a mirror. It had been stellar cycles since she last had a wash like this one, and now she could distinguish what colors she had on her thin armor.

Her small frame was covered in crimson, white, and black mainly. On her chest was a triangle that was pointing just above her spark chamber, the color of a light gold. Her optics was a match to Smokey's, a semi-dark and light blue that went with their moods. Her legs and arms were long, and she was about a seven to seven and a half feet tall.

"Yay!" SwiftSpark cheers in elation as she begins to run around in a circle around her Carrier. Smokey can only smile in response.

* * *

_Later . . ._

Lance had navigated his way to the rec-room, where several Eradicons were mingling together. He didn't give them any mind, for he was still in a twist with what he had discovered.

After the miniature interrogation of Breakdown was over, Lance and Rosaline had made their way towards the wash racks where his figurative elder sister was. As he had passed the smaller med-bay however, he spots Knock Out, trying to take a sample of the energon goo that remained on the floor. All the grey mech had to do was growl and the medic dropped whatever he was doing and left the med-bay.

That left with the pair to be cleaning up the gunk quickly. He knew that Smokey had a mono-reproduction code anomaly, but why didn't the ex-Con take a hint and leave it be? It wasn't like Breakdown had come out of the blue and well . . .

Lance immediately shakes his helm, not wanting to think of it. His thoughts are interrupted when a familiar, humming tone drifts out from one of the corridors. Lance looks up from the table and smiles as he sees a special femme.

"There she is," Lance chuckles as he sees his niece strutting out from one of the halls. **"Hey squirt, how was the wash?"** he chirps in Cybertronian.

"**Absolutely excellent~!"** SwiftSpark sing-songs and her voice is melodic.

"Now I know where all those singing lessons Gran gave me went," Smokey says flatly as she seems to stagger out of the hall. Her optics were half closed and she wasn't paying much attention to where she was going. "Ugh, I was horrible during those lessons . . . always off-key and such!" she plops down in a seat next to Lance. Her helm makes contact with his right arm, resounding with a CLANG.

"**What did you do to your Carrier?"** Lance clicks in mock horror, his optics widening for affect. Sparky giggles, sounding like wind chimes as she titters innocently, **"I was jus' lookin' around . .** ." Lance can only shake his helm in amusement as she pulls the 'I'm innocent' look with making her optics resemble what humans referred to as "Puppy Eyes".

"Eh, running around is more like it . . ." Smokey grumbles, her optics struggling to stay open. Lance glances at his chronometer and realizes that it was only late in the afternoon. _But Sparky can wear out just about any-bot . . ._ he reasons with himself.

"Alright, alright," Lance exclaims and shoves Smokey to get onto her pedes. "_You_ need recharge."

"But I gotta-"

"Mama, you need recharge," SwiftSpark states with persuasion. Lance glances at his niece, wondering how she picked up on English so fast. But then again, SwiftSpark was a very quick learner.

"Oh, alright Swifty," Smokey chuckles, using Sparky's other pet name. With a wink she adds, "Tell me how the humans are when they arrive, 'kay?"

Lance face-palms at the mention of the humans. Optimus had mentioned to his grand-Carrier, sister and himself that some humans would be dropping by later. One was supposed to be a crabby government agent that got annoyed with new arrivals.

He silently prayed that SwiftSpark's charming personality could help with the first impression.


	7. First Impressions

**A/N: I never meant for this story to be shelved for so long, sorry guys! Only recently has the plot-bunnies bitten me again to write this, so here you have it!**

**But a bit of warning, this is short, but I'll try to write some more after sending out chapters to "Taking Chances" & "Guardian".**

**In advance, I apologize for the shortness of this chapter.**

* * *

Only Rosaline, Lance, Optimus, Ratchet, and of course Swiftspark were present when Agent Fowler came in. The newcomers were on Optimus's left as Ratchet was to the Prime's right, looking somewhat annoyed.

The federal agent seems to be as crabby as ever, with his signature bark of, "PRIME!" permeating the air. The assembled Cybertronians were in a semi-circle of where the human came in. Swiftspark was immediately frightened by his tone of voice and hid behind Rosaline, wrapping her small arms around her great-grand-Carrier's leg.

"Prime, I hope all of your new people are here right now, for the Pentagon is seriously attacking me with complaints of finding remains of a non-Earth based space-craft in Colorado!" Agent Fowler hisses. "I had to jump through several hoops to get it off that plateau."

"One is in sick bay, but yes the members of that scout ship are present Agent Fowler," Optimus explains, motioning to the trio to his left.

"I thought you said there were four, subtract the one in the med-bay," Fowler snaps, making Swiftspark want to make herself scarce. However, Rosaline wiggles her leg a bit, making Swiftspark let go and fall forward and flat onto her face-plates with an 'oomph'! The little youngling wanted nothing more but the floor to swallow her up right then. Sadly, that didn't happen and the femme shakily gets back up to her pedes and looks up at a shocked Fowler.

"Hi Mister," Swiftspark says meekly with a shy wave to the human liaison. "I-I-I . . . um . . . uh-"

"She's Swiftspark," Rosaline interjects after Swiftspark immediately dives behind the elder femme's legs and stays put there. "She's a little shy, but once she warms up to you, she'll speak a little more." Ratchet couldn't help but let out a muted snort, earning a look from the ex-singer.

"I'm Lance," the grey mech pipes up. "The one in med-bay is Smokey, but she extends her greetings. Rosaline is the femme here and Swiftspark is the one hiding behind her leg." Fowler gives a slow nod in understanding, but the Cybertronians get puzzled when Fowler cranes his neck to the side.

"Hey, I don't bite kid, it's alright," Fowler says kindly. Rosaline looks down to see her great-granddaughter was peering around her leg; curiosity getting the better of her.

"He won't harm you," Optimus reassures the small femme, and Swiftspark gradually reveals herself to the human.

"My Momma says you're a human government agent?" Swiftspark asks, canting her helm to the side. Fowler couldn't help but scrutinize how small the femme was compared to the adult Cybertronians in the room.

"Yep," Fowler says pointedly and then turns his attention back to Prime.

"You never told me that our kind . . . well, you know . . ."

Ratchet couldn't help but grunt at that as Swiftspark lets out a small giggle.

"Shh," Rosaline murmurs to the little one, shushing the youngling immediately.

"I'm here," announces a familiar voice and Swiftspark immediately dashes away, happily shouting, "MAMA!"

Smokey couldn't help but smile as her little femme literally romps over and nearly smacks herself silly against her Carrier's shin. _If Swift were a canine her tail would be wagging up a storm, _the Carrier thinks quickly, smiling warmly at the little one.

Looking back up and noticing the human in a suit, Smokey apologizes for her late arrival, stating, "Ratchet wouldn't let me out until the machines connected to me beeped the okay."

"Better safe than sorry," Agent Fowler murmurs. He looks up at Smokey and asks, "How long ago was your little one . . . created?" Smokey could barely reign in her amusement at the human's term for when Swiftspark was sparked.

"She's about nine in comparison to your years," Smokey adds, glancing down at her little femme that was climbing up her chassis. "But at times she acts like a five year old."

"Do not!" Swiftspark snaps, finally making it to her Carrier's shoulders and planting herself upon one, looking satisfied. Not smug, but happy.

"Well, Uncle Sam's gonna have a field day with this report," Fowler murmurs as he takes out a note pad from his pocket. He scribbles something onto it with a pen and then jams it back into its spot in his pocket. He looks up again, regarding everyone. "As you were."

"Bye," Swiftspark exclaims cheerfully, waving farewell.

"Is there something up with her?" Lance asks his foster sister in amazement. He earns glare from the Carrier, making him step back with his servos up in surrender.

"She's just peachy, as they say," Rosaline practically coos, coming over next to Smokey and poking her great-grand femme in the stomach area, making Swifty giggle.

"It's a recurring thing apparently," Ratchet couldn't help but snort as he meanders his way back to his usual spot; the monitors.

From afar, a certain red Cybertronian had been watching the whole thing from a corridor. He was leaning causally against the wall, taking in the interactions of Swiftspark with the others. For one thing, Knock Out saw no speck of Breakdown's usual demeanor. However, the said ex-Wrecker was one paranoid glitch at times while he was in his youngling years. He knew of that since Smokey, Knock Out and Breakdown lived near one another in the borderline of 'The Well' and of 'The Pits' of Iacon.

The vain medic himself lived in the middle of those two worlds, meeting Breakdown on accident when the red mech was in a tight spot and the hulking mech had saved him. He then learned of Smokey from Breakdown was she was apparently sent to prison for a 'reason he didn't want to talk about'.

"Hmm," Knock Out murmurs, wondering what other secrets that his assistant was hiding.


	8. Unforeseen

"Wait, so there are four new Autobots in the base?" Jack asks as he was getting near the silo with Arcee. Word got around to the humans from their respective guardians that there were some newcomers to the base, and that one in particular was interesting to say the least.

"Yep, one ex-singer-" Arcee begins, but is interrupted by Jack with a wry laugh.

"A singer?" Jack asks incredulously. "You guys had _singers_ on Cybertron?"

Arcee couldn't help but chuckle at that. "Don't sound so surprised, partner. Even with our species differences, there are some similarities. Take Cybertron's lobbing and the Earth pastime of catch."

"I hear you," the teenager murmurs as the pair enter through the secret entrance of the base. By habit, Arcee speeds up a little before slowing down soon after. Once Jack gets off of her, Arcee transforms into her bipedal mode in the middle of the base.

"More guests?" an unknown voice calls from within, startling Jack a bit.

"The more the merrier they say Lance," chuckles an elder femme's voice. The raven haired teen then takes the time to remove his helmet, and is face to face with two bots. Immediately, Arcee introduces them. Lance was the very tall, silver mech as the elder femme was known as Rosaline, the singer Arcee had discussed about.

"Wait, wait," Jack states aloud, eyeing the femme suspiciously. "Your name, it doesn't sound like a Cybertronian name."

"You have every right for concern young man," Rosaline replies with an understanding nod. She then shutters her optics momentarily, as if a painful memory has crossed her processors. "However, my real designation isn't one I really like to talk about . . . bad memories surface every time I think of it."

Before Jack can say anything else, he is silenced when he notices something about the femme. In one of her optics, a flash of molten gold surrounds an ebony pupil before it fades away back to a bright blue optic.

"Are you okay Jack?" Arcee asks her charge, noticing that he was standing ramrod straight for a moment.

"Uh, yeah, yeah, I'm fine Arcee," Jack lies, trying not to show that he had been spooked. He starts to make an even pace towards the motorcycle-femme, whom was now kneeling to hear what Jack has to say. "Arcee," he whispers to the motorcycle quietly, "I need to talk to you in private."

The blue and silver femme nods silently and then makes her way in the direction of the storage room. She stops herself only about a dozen or so meters away from the mouth of the corridor.

Twisting herself around, she calls out, "Jack, can you help me find some rope? I need it for the training exercise, but I can't find it! I think Bulkhead misplaced it again!"

"Coming Arcee!" her charge shouts in reply, rushing in after her. The femme lets the human into the warehouse like storage room. On the three walls in front of the doorway was tall, metal shelves that contained many different sized boxes and some Cybertronian tech or spares of medical tools and supplies that would come in handy, just in case.

Once the femme makes sure that they were absolutely alone, Arcee once again kneels towards her partner, her optics saying the words for her.

"I dunno Arcee, it was weird," Jack starts, starting to walk around a bit. He looks at the ground momentarily before saying, "One of Rosaline's optics . . . it changed color." Arcee raises an optic ridge at that, curious and skeptical at the same time.

"Are you sure you're saying what you saw?" Arcee asks, concerned. "You're sure?"

"Yes I am Arcee!" Jack exclaims, throwing his hands up. "I wouldn't lie to you, not in a-" he freezes when he finally notices that there was a shadow just outside of the door. It sends a chill down his spine when the shadow seems to take a step forward before stepping back with a loud hiss of disdain. Then, whatever it is, just calmly turns around, leaving. Arcee doesn't waste a second and goes after it, shouting, "HEY!"

Jack dashes after her, and around one of the bends in the corridors he spots a shadowy figure, pausing for a moment to twist around to glare at him. Jack's heart rate goes up a notch when he notices that two optics look back at him menacingly before seemingly to melt away into the shadows.

Those pair of optics was full of aggression, and contains the shades of black and molten gold.

* * *

_Earlier . . ._

"Is Gran okay?" Swiftspark couldn't help but inquire Breakdown. They were outside the med-bay, where Rosaline was occupying one of the berths, holding a Cybertronian-sized cold-compress against her forehead. Earlier, the femme has just met one of the humans that knew of the Autobot's existence. The ex-singer was grimacing for a full five minutes before anyone asks her if she was feeling well. Apparently the femme was suffering a processor-ache 'the size of Kaon', as Rosaline describes.

"She should be," the one-optic mech reassures the concerned femme flatly. "Your Carrier told me that she gets processor-aches time to time; every-bot does."

"But she was in pain," Swiftspark repeats, shuffling after the retreating ex-Decepticon. "It's the bad kind; I can feel it in my spark too," she adds, tapping her digits against her chest-plates.

That makes Breakdown pause in his pace. He looks down to Swift, noticing that she wasn't faking with the expression of pain emanating from her chassis as she was doubling over. Breakdown knew full well that her Carrier would get into a fit worthy of a mother grizzly bear if her offspring was in pain. So, he stoops down and scoops her up, deciding to head to the CMO.

Breakdown makes a beeline to the medic, who was grumbling to himself about something, as per usual.

"What is it?" Ratchet grumbles. "If it isn't life threatening-"

"Oh come off it doc," Breakdown snaps, opening up his servo with a now whimpering Swiftspark, clutching at her helm. "You know Knock Out's stance and experience on younglings, and I can't exactly go to Smokey now since she's off base with Bumblebee and Bulk to help find an Earth based alt-mode for her."

Ratchet lets out a small sigh of annoyance before turning his attention to the small femme. "What's the damage little one?" he asks in a clipped tone, but it was somewhat softer than the usual glossa-lashing the CMO was well known for.

"Helm hurts," Swiftspark whines, clutching at her helm. "Gran is too." At the mention of Rosaline's pains, Breakdown is surprised to see the CMO seem to blanch at that. Before the bulky mech can comment on that, Ratchet then jogs to the med-bay, making headway towards the singer. When the elder mech enters the med-bay, he lets out a startled yelp and shouts for anyone available to help.

By instinct, Breakdown lets Swiftspark down and silently motions to her to stay out of range. Swiftspark numbly nods and then dives to hide under the console. Once the mech sure the young femme is out of sight, he transforms his servo into a hammer and then slowly makes his way to the med-bay, and is shocked by what he sees.

Ratchet, Knock Out and two other Vehicons were trying to awaken Rosaline, but there was something _horribly _wrong with her. Rosaline's chassis looks as if it was sent through the fires of the Pit and just came back from no return. The femme's whole body seems to be frozen in a moment, as if someone hit the pause button on the T.V. Her back was arching up in pain with her servos were stuck, just stuck in a rigor at her sides. It was as if she were about to claw someone's optics out. And speaking of which . . .

There was no hint of the famous Autobot blue within her viz-scanners. All that was in there was just white.

"Frag it all!" Ratchet curses, running a servo over his helm. "If we don't wake her up soon, some-bot is going to-" The next thing anyone knew, the alarms go crazy for Decepticon activity. Instantaneously after, the alarms unexpectedly stop blaring, and the power goes out.

"JACK!" shouts Arcee in desperation, and an enraged, animal-like roar reverberates from the hall leading to the storage room. Then, two sets of screams ring out in the base; one was Jack, the other Swiftspark.

"MAMA! BREAKDOWN, ANYONE! HELP ME!" shrieks Swiftspark as a loud explosion knocks everyone to the ground.


	9. Luck and Misfortune

Swifty for the first time in her life sees an Insecticon. It was just as ugly and scary as she has heard of from the others. It was supremely huge, and she thought Prime was tall but that thing dwarfs him! Long claws . . . and unluckily the little femme starts to remember those scary stories of Insecticons that Lance had spoken to her.

In fact, the day she had to be squished into that escape pod-_made to look and seem/send out signals that it is a carrying pod for protoforms_-was because her group had accidently disturbed an Insecticon nesting ground.

_Don't intake or exhale . . ._ the poor femme repeats in her processor, trembling like mad. _That thing can smell fear . . ._

The giant cyber bug then paws closer and closer to her, making Swiftspark back away from the front spot of the console.

_CLANG! _

Swiftspark freezes when she realizes that she had backed too quickly into the back panel of the console.

THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD, THUD, THUD.

The steps were getting closer and closer to her.

_THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP._

Her spark feels as if it were going to jump out of her chest plates. After that, it'd up and go float off to the Well of Allsparks.

THUD.

Then, the face of the Insecticon appears in front of the little femme. It rears back like a horse, and lets out that unholy screech that rivals Swiftspark's own scream of terror.

"**BREAKDOWN!"**

"Get away from her!" roars the one optic mech, ramming into the Insecticon, throwing it off balance.

It was chaos following the blue and silver mech's actions. The Insecticon wasn't willing to back down, nor was the ex-Wrecker. Soon after, Ratchet literally appears out of the smoke with his blades out, aiming to hack at the Insecticon. At the same time, the CMO comm-links the others for backup.

"We've got an Insecticon at the base!" Ratchet hollers above the din as Vehicons storm into the command center, aiming and firing straight at the Insecticon.

"It's relentless Prime! We need you back on base!"

Meanwhile, Swiftspark was cowering in her spot. Servos were clamped over her audio-receptors from the madness that was ensuing just outside her spot.

Not long after, Optimus and the rest of the Autobots join in the fray from the entrance. They start attacking the cyber bug with all their might. Eventually, Knock Out was shoved out of his med-bay due to the racket from the combat ensuing outside his door.

At that point, Swiftspark had managed to drum up some courage to look out at the skirmish. She was horrified of how many Vehicons were bleeding out energon and that several of the others were either comatose on the floor or damaged.

One of Arcee's wings was bent, Bumblebee and Breakdown were unconscious, with the former behind Optimus who was leaking energon from a gash that the Insecticon delivered him on his leg. From the left of the Insecticon, Ratchet barely manages to get another strike against the hulky thing before it sends Ratchet flying across the room as if he were a rag doll.

Swifty's optics dart about, trying to figure out where a certain crimson medic, Bulkhead, Lance and her Carrier were. She spots Knock Out on the catwalk above everyone else, just sitting there. The vain medic coolly assesses the situation, and finds his opening. Grabbing his prod, Knock Out catapults himself over several fallen Vehicons like an Olympic pole vaulter. He lands squarely on the Insecticon's back, enraging it even more.

"Careful Knock!" Swiftspark yelps. Suddenly, someone joins in with her in her hideaway, making her scream.

"Whoa hey!" shouts the intruder. Immediately, Swiftspark realizes that it was Arcee's human charge.

"How did you get here?" the two of them asks the other, staring at each other before a skin crawling howl from the Insecticon makes the pair look outside.

Everything then was in slow motion.

With a loud, reverberating thud, the Insecticon had finally fallen.

In total, the whole battle with the lone Insecticon took a total of ten cycles, much to Swiftspark's shock after she checks her chronometer.

"Whoa," the human next to her murmurs, before he turns his gaze full onto Swiftspark. "Hey, aren't you-"

"Swifty?" a voice calls from within the mess, and the femme vaults herself out of her spot and into her Carrier's loving arms.

Soon after, everyone began to count up the causalities and scrutinize how the Insecticon was finally brought down. The energon prod stuck deep in its neck was evident enough that Knock Out got lucky by striking down the giant with his weapon on full power. The electric shock of that caliber killed the hulking thing right on the spot.

"That is one lucky shot," Jack couldn't help but comment when he gets close to the dead Insecticon.

"No kidding," Arcee responds, limping over.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, whatever was chasing us earlier is gone now . . ." the teenager shivers.

However, Darby didn't completely believe that.

* * *

_Later . . ._

"As far as I've seen, no one was killed," Ratchet states as the rest of the team-_except a certain Carrier who has to calm down her distressed femme_-is assembled in the jam-packed med-bay. Knock Out and Ratchet had their servos full from the casualties, mostly from the Vehicons and Eradicons. None were killed, but a few were critical.

Not long ago Arcee had returned from driving Jack home, just entering the meeting.

"Otherwise, its many bumps on the helms, scrapes here and there on numerous bots, and possibly a couple of bots need an energon transfusion for the night."

"Ratchet, he question still stands of how the Insecticon managed to discover the silo," Arcee says. She was nursing a sore wing, but that would get healed soon.

"I'm afraid to say that it is from the new hive the Insecticons have taken up residence in," Optimus states frankly, looking grave.

"And where is that?" Lance asks snappishly. He was contending with a busted up arm, which was placed in a rig that the CMO constructed to help support the limb.

"Calm down Lance," Breakdown snorts, lucky to have only a few scrapes and bumps on his chassis.

"Easy for you to say One-Eye," Lance snarls back at the somewhat shorter mech.

His expression morphs into one of disgust as he adds, "You're the one that's fragging Smokey!" Several aghast gasps, jaws dropping, and in Arcee and Bee's case, a servo (or both)-over-the-mouth occur at the statement.

Two seconds tick by quickly before-

"THAT'S IT!" Breakdown roars. He almost lunges at the younger mech, but Bulkhead and Knock Out manage to seize heavy-duty mech before he does anything drastic. In reality, Bulkhead grabs the elder mech's servos and pins them to the blue and silver mech's back. Knock Out just places a firm grip on the mech's shoulder.

The Vehicons step in to try to rein in Lance. Actually, it was more like _struggle_ to hold the mech back. After all, the purple and silvery Cybertronians were rather a bit shorter and weaker in comparison to Lance.

"Enough!" the Peterbilt shouts, making everyone and practically every _particle_ in the room stock still. In the room, it feels as if the temperature drops several degrees with Optimus's steps towards the delinquents. Blue eyes set upon the offending mechs, his expression harsh. His usually stoic azure optics seems to be a bright, ice blue.

"The both of you will be placed on monitor duty for the duration of the net two Earth weeks," the Prime enunciates sternly, his optics darting to and fro between the two mechs. The Prime then glances over at the CMO as he steps forward. Everyone then realizes that there would b an addendum to the sentencing.

"As well as be in the brig during the nighttime, starting tonight," Ratchet announces sternly.

Breakdown bows his helm at the ruling, understanding. However, Lance's indigo optics seethe with ire.

"Do you two understand? I don't always immediately notice to what happens between my team and the newcomers, but I shall act against slander sent to one another in order to create a cataclysm," Optimus adds quite frigidly.

Lance opens his mouth to retort, but is shot down when Ratchet glares daggers at him.

"Is there anything you wish to say Lance?" Optimus's baritone voice questions. His stance _clearing_ stating, 'I'm not going to take any scrap from you'.

"No sir," Lance replies, his frame tense.

* * *

_Late that night . . ._

The brig was a place outside of the missile silo. Originally a bunker that was half a mile away from the base for the previous tenants, it was rather spacious enough to hold about a dozen or so Cybertronians if need be. As far as Knock Out knew of the whole layout of the brig, the rooms used as the cells of the brig were once gigantic storage areas. Other parts of the large bunker were sealed off for they were either too dangerous or just too small for Cybertronian sized beings to be needed or used for that matter.

The two new occupants of the brig were placed on opposite ends of the massive room. Prime knew well enough of what possibilities of violent behavior the two would enact on each other. With Breakdown's aggressive streak added with Lance's newfound hatred to the mech in a mix . . . it'd end with an outcome that no one wanted to contemplate.

Currently, Knock Out was conveniently placed on monitor duty. The room is in is pretty much a newly installed room to the somewhat growing missile silo. It's pretty small by Cybertronian standards.

Truth to be told, the vain mech would usually be bored to tears out with this situation. He openly prefers to either be putting on a new coat of his crimson paint to his chassis. Another possibility he enjoyed was buffing himself out to get a gleaming shine, and possibly harass Arcee in a friendly from time to time . . .

If you call making vulgar comments straight at the femme or behind the motorcycle's back every now and again as 'harassing in a friendly way'.

The other pastime gets him into a lot more trouble with Prime than irritating the femme warrior for the heck of it. It was to be out on the open road, putting metal to the pedal and at times in illegal races. Tonight however, he knew something would happen in the old hollow makeshift brig. The mech decides for once in his life-cycle to not skip out on it. If he skips out on the _Nemesis,_ he'd receive a loud warning from his Lord and Master as well as a massive beating. Those would borderline with 'paint-job harming' to 'life threatening'.

It takes about an hour or two after midnight, the medic's own intuition is rewarded when a certain femme visits one of the residents. By then, Lance was deep in recharge, grumbling every once in awhile about how 'unfair' it was of the CMO to sentence him to the brig. Knock Out's interest peeks when Smokey appears in front of Breakdown's little cell, and the ex-Wrecker nearly trips himself up just to meet her.

Knock Out then uses the one of the two cameras to zoom in on the scene. By memory, the medic then taps a small button to maximize the volume in order to even hear the conversation. Primus wasn't with him that day and the volume wasn't working. That annoys the Astron Martin, but he then taps into a small reserve of patience and props himself up on his elbows, slouching in his seat.

His crimson optics glint with wicked glee as he begins to watch the body language and gestures from the couple. They'd hate to concede to the fact that they were an item in one point of their lives and all out disagree with him, but he labeled them that nevertheless.

Just to annoy them. The Astron Martin couldn't help it however . . .

He would just be nosey into the others business-heck the mech loved gossip as much as his paintjob-and get some juicy information. At other times, the mech would just watch from the shadows or even eavesdrop.

At times however-_but he'd outright deny to anyone if they asked to keep his reputation_-he did it to watch out for the ones he cared about.

* * *

**A/N: As of now, Lance completely loathes Breakdown, and whether or not he's making slander or not, well, you decide. R&R PLZ!**


	10. Secrets

**A/N: EEEEE~! We've made it to Chapter 10 folks!**

**Thanks to ben55555, RintinDestiny, blondecomicartist, garlandfruit, i love all yaoi, thundercracker76, Alice Sylvia, Autobot-Ratchet, day dreamer x015, and to the review name known as 'Guest' . . .**

**THANK YOU ALL for either alerting, making this fic to your favs, reviewing and/or commenting on it. **

* * *

"So how was the first night in the brig?" Knock Out asks Breakdown casually.

The pair was hanging out/cleaning medical instruments in Knock Out's med-bay. Most of the Vehicons had already left to return to their rooms and nurse their wounds. The ones still remaining were still conked out with the pain medication that Knock Out had injected them.

"Uncomfortable as the Pit," Breakdown grouses quietly as he picks up a scalpel and begins to clean it. The mech couldn't afford to get too angry now, especially since he had a medical tool/weapon in his servos. One cut and he knew Knock Out would go ballistic on him for being a "clumsy oaf".

A minuscule smile then is seen on the orange faced mech. He adds, "Though a highlight was seeing Lance complain when he got out to Smokey. She wasn't too happy."

"Wait, seeing Smokey upset made you happy?" Knock Out questions incredulously. He knew his assistant can be a bit off at times, but that was . . .

"Well, better Lance annoying her than me," Breakdown simply retorts.

"But at least she takes your complaining in stride."

"What are you getting at Knocker?" Breakdown asks distantly, using the medic's nickname. "I hardly, if _ever,_ complain," He didn't realize the scalpel he is cleaning is already pristine.

From the corner of Breakdown's range of sight, salacious smile graces the Astron Martin's face-plates. Breakdown nearly drops the scalpel he was swabbing. Gingerly, as he could with such large digits, he drops the scalpel back onto the tray it belonged. Finally, the taller mech turns himself around to fully face Knock Out.

"It's not what you think-"

"Well what am I supposed to think Breakdown?" Knock Out retorts graciously. He turns his chassis to the side a bit as he places a servo on his hip-plates. The ex-'Con also tilts his helm to the side as he observes Breakdown's posture and expression. The elder mech was somewhat on the edge.

"I was on monitor duty last night and saw some . . . pretty interesting things," the medic nods. He flicks his servo up and motions it around a bit. It was as if he was presenting something invisible behind him.

Then, Breakdown's whole frame tenses up. His optic widens as he dares to inquire, "How . . . how _much_ did you see?" His tone was hesitant.

"Hmm . . ." the medic mumbles, with his index and thumb gripping his chin. After what seems to be too long, Knock Out replies, "From when she entered and from when she left."

Immediately, and Knock Out saw this coming, Breakdown stomps away. The larger mech begins to grumble to himself in Cybertronian.

_Now,_ Knock Out thinks to himself. _Only to get him to calm down._

* * *

_Inside a forgotten storage room . . ._

The room was utterly bare, but the small femme within didn't seem to notice.

From the entrance, Swiftspark is huddling in the upper left corner of the room. Knees were drawn up to her chest-plates; arms were wrapped tightly around her shins. Smokey's poor daughter was still shaking like a leaf. Her wide blue optics were wide open, terrified.

_C'mon,_ the femme berates herself. _You're stronger than this! Why should an Insecticon scare ya like that? You've seen worse! _

However, Swifty can't bring herself to get up and go back to her Carrier. Her mother is currently recharging in the med-bay, near Rosaline's comatose chassis. The little femme sighs, leaning back on the corner she was sitting in. She tries to make herself comfortable, maybe-

_PLICK._

Swiftspark gets up with a start, near tripping herself. She's bewildered, wondering where the sound came from.

_PLING._

She looks to the left. Nothing there but cobwebs and dust. Her gaze then travels to the door.

_No that can't be right, _Swiftspark thinks to herself, shaking her helm. _The sound is way too high to be the metal door . . ._

PLICK! PLING-CLACK!

Now the sounds were hitting whatever surface a lot quicker now. Swiftspark shutters her optics and then concentrates on the volleying sound of something small, hitting . . . hitting the . . .

_CRACK!_

Swiftspark turns towards the small, circular window that looks out to the desert. The femme then notices a small crack in it.

"PSSST!" a voice hisses. The voice was just outside the window. Swiftspark skitters over to the window and presses her face-plates against the glass. A mech about her age then pops up to the window. "Woman, are you deaf or something?"

She smiles as she's face-to-face her buddy. "What's up my friend?"

"I was wondering if you were up for a small trek into the desert. Ya know just me and you?"

"That a trick question?" Swiftspark raises an optic ridge, chuckling. "You know how hot it gets out there during the day? We're in Nevada pal!"

Her expression and tone becomes softer as she adds, "And anyway, my Carrier is going to get suspicious if we aren't careful."

"Ooh, just . . ." The newcomer turns his back to her, grumbling to himself. He clenches his servos a few times as he takes several intakes to calm himself down. Finally, he is swinging back around, facing her. "Meet me at the usual spot, alright?"

"Alright, see you later Damien." Swiftspark smiles as the mechling gives her a small salute. Damien checks his surroundings for a second. Once he knows it clear, he hops away. He doesn't look back as he runs off. Soon enough, the mechling's fast pedes take him the horizon, where the desert dunes lie in wait.

* * *

_Later in the command center . . ._

"Where do you think you're going?" Lance asks Swiftspark. Oddly enough, the small femme was pacing about looking a bit agitated. And yet, she looks nervous.

"Oh, I'm just walking around, stretchin' my legs Lance," Swiftspark says easily, giving him a smile. "I've been cooped up in here too long . . ."

"Lance!" shouts the voice of the CMO from the med-bay. "You better be in the brig within the next five minutes!"

"Yes sir!" the silver mech snaps back, agitated.

"But if you ask me," he mutters, tuning back to the console to log out. "It should be just Breakdown . . ."

As he was talking to himself, Lance doesn't notice Swiftspark making a full sprint to the elevator, with an odd package on her back.

* * *

**A/N 2: So where IS Swiftspark going with her friend? In fact, is that little mech a 'friend' at all? R&R please!**


	11. AWOL

_The next day . . ._

The room is just enough for three adult Cybertronians and one little youngling. However, one was in the med-bay and another was in the brig. On the floor, in recharge on a Cybertronian sized mat was Smokey. She stirs out of her slumber, blinking sleepily. She tries to return to recharge, but is not able to. The Autobot lets out an exasperated groan, sitting up to stretch.

It was almost time to get the two mechs out from the brig anyway. Out of habit, she slowly makes her way to where Swiftspark has her recharge, which is in a large cot.

Smokey checks her chronometer and it's about five-thirty AM now. Smokey smiles and shakes her helm. As if Swiftspark would be up now . . .

She pauses, seeing that the cot was empty. Smokey's optics widen as she also notices that the cot hasn't been slept in . . .

_Maybe she went to the med-bay to check on Gran,_ Smokey thinks to herself. Then, she's running to the med-bay, spark doing flip-flop in its chamber. _Please be there, please be there . . ._

To her horror however, only her Grand-creator was there.

"Primus, please don't let it be . . ." Smokey starts to hyperventilate as she starts to run through the base, looking over, under, above and below objects.

The racket she created eventually wakes up a nearby tenant.

"What's going on?" Ratchet mumbles and has to do a double take to see the main room in a mess. Some things were taken out of some drawers and left on the floor, the console's hatches were all open, and there are visible dents on the hand bars near where the humans usually played their video games.

The medic's attention was then drawn to the loud shouts from a certain femme. Smokey was hollering toward the vents, yelling her little youngling's designation.

"Swiftspark! Swifty! C'mon this isn't funny darling!" Smokey shouts. Her scurrying about almost reminded Ratchet of how a squirrel moves . . . but this wasn't a laughing matter.

"Smokey? What's going on?" the ambulance asks, slowly coming towards the ex-Search and Rescue member.

"Have you seen Swifty?" Smokey asks, her tone was desperate.

His optics widens. "No . . . she wasn't in your quarters?"

"I don't think she even _went_ to my quarters to get to recharge, oh Primus, what if-"

"Nuh-uh-uh! Don't think like that, we'll find her," Ratchet reassures her, placing a calm servo on her shoulder. "I'm sure she's just wondering around."

He frowns at the mess she made, grumbling to himself as he starts to shut all the panels on the console.

"Sorry Ratch . . ." Smokey says sheepishly, rushing up to help him close the rest of them. She then darts back towards the floor to pick up all the items strewn about the room.

The CMO only goes 'humph' in reply as she boots up the computer and starts to type on the numerous keys to check on the energy signatures within the base.

He pauses, making Smokey look up from picking up the items on the floor.

"What's wrong?" Smokey asks, dread seeping into her voice.

"From the cameras . . . she exited the base via the elevator . . ." Ratchets says slowly.

* * *

_Later . . ._

To say Smokey went ballistic is an understatement.

Her livid scream woke up the rest of the base, going as far as echoing out to the brig.

"What the-" Lance murmurs, blinking. He was wide awake as he could hear Cybertronian and human curse words being shouted from half a mile.

"She's cursing up a storm, that's never good," Breakdown whispers.

Bumblebee was the one to let them out.

"What's the damage?" Lance asks.

"**Swifty's missing, camera's show she left the base via the elevator. To put simply, Smokes isn't having it,"** Bumblebee explains quickly as they transform into their vehicle modes and then rush to the base.

It was madness, for the main room in the base was now a mess as Smokey was outright denying that Swifty ever left the base. The femme was practically turning almost everything over to see where her daughter could be hiding. Optimus and Arcee were trying to calm her down as Ratchet was furiously trying to look through the tapes to see where the little femme could've gone.

Breakdown went for the most direct way to stop her.

He body slams her into the wall right behind her and then grabs her shoulders. Her pedes were left dangling about one meter in the air.

"Breakdown, what are you-?" Lance snaps, only to be stopped by Knock Out's servo on his shoulder.

"Don't worry," the medic murmurs.

"Calm down kid!" Breakdown barks at Smokey. This surprises everyone as Smokey struggles to get out of his iron grip. "You not listening to the doc is a bad idea, why would he lie to you?"

"Swiftspark wouldn't leave without saying anything," Smokey chokes out.

"Everyone has their secrets, why can't your kid?" Breakdown asks. The hulking mech using logic for once stuns the others, especially Bulkhead, for a moment.

She struggles again in the muscular mech's grasp but then gives up, leaving her pedes slightly swaying above the ground.

"Will you let me down now?"

"Will you quit acting like a femme with a screw loose?" Breakdown retorts, though he was already slackening his grip on her. Smokey falls onto her aft, but is helped up by Bumblebee and Arcee.

"I'm fine, thanks," Smokey sighs, brushing herself off.

"I've found something," Ratchet calls. Smokey rushes up to him, near colliding into the medic.

"Will you watch it?!"

"Where?" Smokey asks as she ignores the CMO's pointed look he sends to her.

Ratchet taps the keys several times and then a video shows up. The time stamp reads approximately eleven PM, and from the elevator at the top emerges little Swiftspark, holding an enormous package.

"What's in her servos?" Arcee wonders aloud, getting a closer look.

"**Something irregularly shaped, that's for sure," **Bumblebee beeps, optics rotating to try to see the image a little better.

"Hey, isn't' that the portable zip line she got from one of the colonies we stopped by?" Lance says to Smokey. Her optics widen at that as Ratchet momentarily rewinds the clip and sees her little femme setting up said zip line.

Bumblebee vaguely remembers that kind of model from his younger stellar cycles. The contraption was comprised of two small, by Cybertronian standards, grappling spikes. One end you have to jam into a wall or something as strong as that. The other end was shot out of a cannon-like apparatus that came with it.

On the clip, Swiftspark carefully creeps over to the edge of the silo's surface, making Smokey and Lance gulp. The youngling then gets flat onto her stomach and carefully slings a long strand of rope around her shoulders. She grabs one of the spear-like and begins to hammer that end of the spike into the silo wall.

"That'll damage that part," Ratchet groans, shaking his helm.

It takes the femme awhile to drive the point into the silo wall, but eventually she's done and crawls away from the edge of the silo. Once Swiftspark is near the elevator again, she un-subspaces a bulky projectile launcher, and carefully ties a rope into the small hook at the end of the spike. Eventually, she jams the rope and prickle into the muzzle of the gun. It vaguely resembles a harpoon launcher.

She steps forward a few paces as she hoists the scope to her optic. Swiftspark takes several moments before she flicks the trigger. The recoil from the shot is so powerful, it near sends the femme back a yard onto her aft.

"Ouch . . ." Bulkhead mumbles, seeing Swifty grimacing as she rubs her aching shoulder. She then un-subspaces a long strip of cloth. Before the rest of them can react, Swifty gets a running start and jumps off the roof of the silo.

"AI!" Smokey shouts, covering her optics along with Bumblebee.

"Whoa-whoa-whoa, wait, look," Bulkhead says. He points to the screen, seeing that Swifty managed to wrap the cloth around the long rope. Unfortunately, the little femme zips out of the camera's range.

"Where can she go?" Smokey says, looking to Ratchet. "It's all desert out there and she knows not to even _think_ of walking to the human dwellings."

"Did you have any stowaways in your ship?" the CMO questions her.

"Nope," Lance shakes his helm. "I'd have found them otherwise; patrolled the ship often."

"But why would she sneak out?" Smokey mumbles, worry blossoming in her spark again.

"Primus knows what'll happen out there, and she hasn't even taken an energon ration either," Arcee adds.

"If she took a cube with her, it'd alert the Insecticons," Knock Out snorts. "Pit-spawn scavengers . . ."

"But where'd she go?" Arcee repeats, looking at Smokey directly.

"Smokey," Optimus says. "Do you have any idea where your youngling could've been gone?"

"No . . . and she's blocking her side of the bond too . . ." Smokey says in misery, closing her optics as she shakes her helm.

"I'll try to comm. her," Lance says gently, trying to calm her down.

"She has to be out there somewhere."

* * *

_Several miles away . . ._

Swiftspark wakes up with a jolt. The femme takes in her surroundings, calming down once she realizes where she is. She was within a spacious cavern. Twenty-seven energon cubes were stacked in a tall pyramid not too far from her. She stretches as she grabs one and then waddles over to a gigantic bucket where water was stored in it.

She has to water down the energon, for it could send her circuits on the fritz if she didn't. Once mixing it together, she takes in a swig, exhaling happily.

"You sure got up late," chuckles a voice. Swiftspark calmly looks up to see Damien, now in a full-grown Vehicon chassis.

"The walk was nice," the femme giggles, remembering how the pair met up with each other. DA-M13N, or Damien as Swifty calls him, was a Vehicon that preferred to live outside of confined spaces. A wild one, as the youngling describes it.

The pair went walking about, checking out some little critters they ran into at times or to even look at the cacti they passed. The rabbits were Swifty's favorite.

The femling doesn't remember how she fell asleep, but that thought is brushed aside as she realizes how really _late _it was.

"Oh spark, it's almost noon!" Swiftspark shouts, mortified.

"So?" Damien says nonchalantly.

"SO?!" Swifty shrieks, making the Vehicon jump. "Oh Primus, my Carrier will have my helm if I don't get back, stat!"

"What will you tell her when she asks where you've been?" Damien hisses. His face-plate is emotionless, but bit rigid posture says otherwise.

"Damien-"

"Oh c'mon Swifty! Didn't you have fun? Being out and about?" the Vehicon asks.

"Don't guilt-trip me on this one mech . . ." Swiftspark sighs. Damien turns his helm away, refusing to look at her.

"Damien, I can't sneak out anymore after this, my Carrier-"

"Well frag her then!" Damien snaps at her, turning back towards her. Swiftspark flinches at the expletive Damien said, but still stands her ground.

"If it weren't for me, Arcee wouldn't have found your pod! You'd be a bakin' eggshell by the time Breakdown received that distress signal!"

"Damien, you may have a full fledged Vehicon body, but you're still no older than me!" Swifty growls. "I have to go back."

"You _have_ to because of your mother, or is it because you never want to see me again?" DA-M13N asks.

"The first one, and quit guilt-tripping me!"

"But-"

"No buts," Swifty replies, exasperated. Her shoulders droop. "My Momma's gonna have a spark-attack if I don't."

Silence reigned in the cavern for awhile.

Finally, Damien says, "Fine, but you still can't tell the higher-ups that I went AWOL, alright?"

"Why are you so afraid of them?" Swiftspark asks, starting to head toward the entrance/exit.

"It's not _them_ I'm afraid of," DA-M13N shivers quietly as he follows her out.

"It's _what_ Rosaline is . . ." he adds inaudibly to himself, shuddering.

As they exit the cavern, they fail to notice a large shadow following them.


	12. Trouble Follows

**A/N: Holy flip! Sorry for such a long delay. School and derpy internet connection, ugh. Hope you enjoy nevertheless!**

* * *

The pair walk servo in servo across the desert. The noontime sun was well above them now, observing them as they mad their sluggish pace towards the missile silo.

Swifty shakes her helm vigorously in annoyance. For the past hour, she has tried to make sense of the lines that was rising above the sands. It makes the horizon seem wobbly instead of steadfast.

"You alright kid?" DA-M13N asks the femling beside him as she bows her helm a bit. He stops his pace as he sees how Swiftspark was swaying back and forth on her pedes.

"Whoa!" he exclaims as he catches her before she falls to the hot ground.

"I . . . I am quite alright Damien," Swifty exhales shakily, shaking her helm again. She looks up, and to her annoyance, her viz scanners were going wonky on her again, making the landscape distort.

"No you aren't," Damien snaps, hoisting the red femme to her pedes. She drastically leans to her left, almost collapsing in the miniature Vehicon's arms.

"Holy scrap; you're-"

"I'm fine!" Swifty retorts, but her optics were squinting against the blazing sun. The grains of sand that had managed to wiggle into her optic lenses weren't helping either.

She blinks rapidly, loosening a few of the grains.

"Like the Pit you are! Woman, hop on my back. I don't care if your mother scraps me for inadvertently kidnapping you; I'm not letting you get any more sand in your optics than you need to!"

Without protest, to Damien's relief, Swifty hops on the gallant mech's back, locking her arms around his shoulders.

"Well?" Swifty questions him. Her pedes click twice against his hips. "Giddy-yap."

"I am no one's steed, Swifty," Damien snorts, though there was amusement in his voice. He continues the long trek, for two.

"Don't care, you're already letting me rest on your back."

"Hardy-har-har."

If the Vehicon had a face, it'd be of utter pride. He made Swifty laugh her raucous laugh, after that sarcastic comment. That in turn makes her bury her face-plate to the crook of his neck.

It warmed his spark.

* * *

_With the Autobots . . ._

"-We still haven't found her Smokey-," Arcee reports over the comm-link. "-She isn't in this part of the desert.-"

"Please keep searching for her," Smokey pleads to the blue motorcycle. "I've seen the weather report; its way too hot for any sparkling out in."

"-We'll keep searching," beeps Bumblebee.

"Keep me posted." She shut off the terminal and lets out a miserable sigh. She places a servo over her face-plate, rubbing her forehead.

_Primus above . . . please let her be safe,_ the Carrier prays.

She feels a sympathetic servo on her shoulder. Smokey looks behind her and sees red, silver and blue armor.

"My team will find your little one," Prime reassures her.

"Thank you for your confidence, Optimus," Smokey replies quietly, letting her servo fall away from her face-plate.

A small cough makes the two Autobots turn towards the hall leading to the quarters of the base. Breakdown stands there awkwardly, seeming uncomfortable with their gaze upon him.

"May I speak with Smokey, Prime?" Breakdown asks. The Prime nods and leaves the room.

"Oh Primus . . ." Smokey exhales shakily. Breakdown catches her before she collapses to the floor.

"She's a resourceful kid, she'll be back," Breakdown says and tugs her over to sit on a large bench. Smokey settles down upon it and places her face-plates into the palms of her servos.

"She never disappeared on me before . . . not like this," Smokey exhales shakily. Breakdown could see the trace of lubricant at the edge of her optics.

"Everyone has a reason," the one optic mech says, his tone somewhat gentle.

"She'll tell you when she gets back."

"Well, she'll be grounded for the next two months then," Smokey says in a humorless tone, shaking her helm.

"No human TV and a few more lessons about the humans and their culture."

"Well, then me and Knock Out will be sitting on the sidelines with . . . what do those humans call that tiny, yellow food they eat?"

"Popcorn I believe-_hey_ wait a nano-"

"Yeah, when you're doing that, me and Knockers will be watching with a tub of-OW!" Breakdown winces as the femme elbows him hard in his chest-plates.

"What was that-"

"Shut up."

* * *

_Out in the desert . . ._

Damien's knees buckled with his every step now. He curses his purple paint-job; it absorbed all the unbearable heat!

"You're staggering," Swifty gasps as Damien suddenly falls to his knees and servos. She could feel his whole chassis quivering under her weight. She hops off.

"I'm fine," Damien coughs.

_"Now_ who's in denial?" Swifty jokes. She's still wobbly, but manages to stand up.

"Lean on me; we'll support one another," she suggests. Swiftspark struggles a bit to help the Vehicon get to his pedes. She's successful after five more tries.

"Let's march along," DA-M1EN snorts, trudging on the way back to base, his arm looped around Swiftspark's.

The pair then begin their rendition of 'Lean On Me', laughing as they mess up some of the keys of the song.

However, the sound of enormous wings beating make the two stop in their happy pace.

"Oh scrap," Damien whispers.

"Damien . . . is that a-"

A _horrid_ screech breaks the calm of the air. The Insecticon touches down right in front of them, its huge shadow drapes over them.

"RUN!" the Vehicon screams.


	13. All Is Well Mostly

**A/N: ****This is my Halloween gift to my faithful readers~!**

**On a side note, I know I've gotten some new readers after the last chapter was posted. However, I'd really love to hear some feedback about how the plot is going; feedback is one of the greatest things any writer would want, even if it's constructive criticism.**

**So, after reading this chapter, can you guys **_**please**_** read and type a comment in the box at the bottom of the page? It'd mean a lot to me.**

* * *

_"MAMA!"_

That sound would forever be etched into Damien's processor.

Automatically, he shifts from his holo-form to his full size, using himself as a shield to cover the little one.

"Stay behind me!" he exclaims, his voice much deeper than when he was about Swifty's height.

"No need to tell me twice!" she screams as the Insecticon charges at the Vehicon, who fires frantically at the gigantic thing. Those blasts however, barely made a dent.

_Frag, frag, frag!_

The Insecticon bellows, rattling Damien's nerves to fire his weapon. With the Vehicon distracted, the gigantic Decepticon goes on all fours and rams into the smaller mech, sending him flying.

"GAH!" Damien shouts as he collides with the sand, coughing. He clutches his midsection in agony. He carefully looks at the cut; it hurt like the Pit, but wasn't fatal.

"Oh no . . ." Swifty whispers. Damien struggles to get up as the Insecticon slowly advances to the cowering youngling only thirty meters away from him.

"N-nice Insecticon . . . good Insecticon?" Swiftspark chuckles nervously, backing up. She holds up her hands, trying to pacify the humongous thing.

A deep, skin-crawling growl escapes the insect robot.

"P-please don't kill me . . ." the femling whispers, and she knew she is being backed up against a towering rock face.

The Insecticon smiles cruelly at her, raising a claw to finish her off. Swiftspark quickly says her prayers, adding an apologizing to her Carrier as well.

Suddenly, dozens of blasts strike the Insecticon's hide. Both younglings look up in time to see the cavalry arrive, comprising of Arcee, Bumblebee, and Breakdown.

"There!" Arcee shouts as she and Breakdown take on the Insecticon.

"Boy, I'm glad to see your face again!" Swifty exhales shakily. Bumblebee runs over to her and quickly grabs her into his servo.

**"Well, I know of one particular Carrier will be glad to see you," **Bumblebee beeps quickly but is then knocked over by the Insecticon head-butting into him. The force of impact makes Bee lose his grip on the femling, and she tumbles away.

Taking advantage of the scout's disorientation, the Insecticon pounces after the wayward femling.

Swiftspark screams as she turns around and tries to scramble away. Nature wasn't on her side, for the sand keeps slipping her up.

Before she can comprehend anything, the Insecticon's gigantic claws are pressing her into the sand. Swifty's intakes are clogged with the grains from the ground. She hacks wildly in response.

"Get off of her!" Breakdown and Damien shout in tandem. They startle one another and take a moment to glance at one another before glaring at the Insecticon that was smashing the femme in the ground.

The gigantic 'Con tilts it helm to the side in curiosity, watching Swiftspark squirm beneath his claws.

"I don't taste good, really!" Swifty was hyperventilating. Her optics are wide open with fear.

"I'm a scrawny little femme and I barely have any muscle cabling in me!"

_She's using that line? _Damien thinks, shaking his helm. _Primus, she's desperate._

**"What are we going to do?"** Bumblebee asks, tensing up quite a bit.

Oddly enough, the Insecticon notices how the others are postured, and slowly removes its claw from the femme. It gives the chance for Swifty to dash for her life into Breakdown's servos as the Insecticon transforms and flies off.

"You're in trouble little femme," Breakdown says.

"Don't tell me-" she groans in displeasure.

"Yup, you're grounded, or at least that's what your Carrier said."

"Aw man . . ." Swiftspark sighs. Realizing that Damien is doubling over then, the femling leaps out of the one-opticed mech and dashes over to the Vehicon.

"I'm fine," the purple and silver mech gutters out. He lets out a pained hiss and Bumblebee calls for a Ground Bridge.

"-Who's injured?-" Ratchet demands over the comm-link.

"A friend of Swiftspark's; she's safe, but her bodyguard isn't," Breakdown reports.

From beside Ratchet, Smokey lets out a loud sigh of relief. The Carrier ends up falling to her knee-plates, murmuring, "Thank the Allspark."

* * *

After all is said and done, Smokey is just glad to have her sparkling returned in one piece, However, the end result of Swiftspark's sentence was to help clean out some of the most dusty and cluttered storage rooms in the whole silo.

Damien wasn't spared, even with the welds to his chassis. He also has to help Swifty in her new load of chores.

"Well, it's not that bad," DA-MI3N says as he's brooming up a storm on the floor. He's back in his original height, just a few inches shy if being Swifty's stature. Currently, the aforementioned femme is on top of a shelf a few feet above the sweeping Vehicon, dusting the uppermost part of it.

"Well . . . it could be worse," Swifty huffs, and then accidentally intakes in a lot of dust particles. Her olfactory sensor acts up, and she 'sneezes'. Damien jumps, and tilts his helm up.

"You ok?!"

"Yeah . . . yeah I am," Swiftspark coughs a moment before peering over the edge of the shelf. Her expression is of embarrassment.

Awkward silence is what the pair experience as they stare at one another. Once they realize what they're doing, Damien is the first to break away.

"We should probably-"

"Yeah . . ."

They busy themselves doing their designated chores, silent for the rest of the time.


	14. Author's Note (PLEASE READ)

**A/N: Hey guys. I know this isn't the update you were looking forward to, but I have some good and bad news. The bad news is that my muse isn't cooperating with this fic at all, and I have a difficult time trying to move on with it because it's starting to become too OC-centric.**

**However, the good news depends on whether or not you guys would mind a revamp of this fic. I'll keep 'Reconciliation' here, but I'll just discontinue it if no one is interested in this anymore, because quite frankly, the way this story will turn out, it'll just crash, in a **_**really **__**bad**__** way.**_

**So, what are your opinions? Please drop a comment down to the review box below or PM me your opinion.**


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